Uninvited
by vampirefan1989
Summary: After a bad date gone wrong, Sookie meets a mysterious man who knows more about her than she has let on to anyone. And, as it turns out, he is anything but human. He's her guardian angel- and an angel that only Sookie has the power to see. AU.


Hello, this is my first fanfiction and I wanted to write something very different from the usual. I am not too sure if its too weird or not, but please let me know if it is something worth continuing. Eric is meant to be Sookie's guardian angel, if that makes any sense haha.

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**_Uninvited_**

_'Man, look at the size of her tits in that dress. I wonder if I can convince her into coming home with me after this...'_

Having to put up with thoughts like these was the very reason why I usually tried to avoid heading out on dates. It made me feel uncomfortable, being objectified, but it wasn't as if it was intentional on my dates part. I was sure, had he known about my mind reading ability beforehand, that he would have left his perverted thoughts at home by the doorstep before heading out with me. Either that, or he would have cancelled his date with me altogether.

My date for the evening was a man I knew well, but never had any particular interest in dating him. His name was Clayton, and he was a nice and polite young man enough. He also had a sweet sense of humour, and an infectiously loud laugh. It was impossible not to laugh along with him, even if he jokes weren't all that up to my tastes. It hadn't been my idea to go out with him: No, it had been my Grandmother's.

Every time a birthday came along for me, she would get even more worried about my dating life (Or lack thereof). My Grandmother found it outrageous that a young, pretty woman like me wasn't more adventurous when it came to dating. It was my Grandmother who pushed me into giving Clayton a chance tonight. Giving him a chance seemed easy enough, but now it wasn't as easy as I first anticipated, namely thanks to his thoughts. We arrived at the restaurant just after six-thirty in the evening. It was smooth-sailing at first; I ordered a very nice meal, and even indulged in a glass of red wine, something I don't ordinarily do. Now, it had reached just a little over ten o'clock, and he hadn't stopped drinking beers ever since we first pulled in here. He was tipsy and not in control of what he was thinking. Obviously, beer also made him horny as hell after a while. The date wasn't going so well, to say the least.

Simply put, I was now regretting it.

Why had I listened to my Grandmother? I wondered, watching my date as he took compulsive sips of his Budweiser. My Grandmother meant the best for me, always, I knew that; but this was one time I shouldn't have bothered listening to her suggestions.

I wasn't like most young girls, and it was about time I accepted that. I couldn't go out on dates, or flirt, or meet a fine young fellow to start a family with. It was time I stopped kidding myself of that.

I found myself stuck in a sticky situation, as we asked for our bill from the waiter. Clayton was evidently expecting me to head back to his place with him, but I didn't want to, and I was nervous on telling him so. I had always hated turning people down and making them feel disappointed, but what else could I do? This date definitely wasn't working. Clayton and I starting something serious was never going to happen. He wasn't going to get laid tonight, no matter how wonderful he felt the date had gone, and I wasn't the type of girl to lead somebody on.

As we split the bill, I rose from the table and slipped my purse over my shoulder. I didn't even know where to begin on letting him down, but I was hoping to do it as painlessly and nicely as I possibly could. "Thanks so much for inviting me out here tonight, Clayton," I said, with a forced smile. "It was wonderful, and you're such a nice guy. I hate that it's over already."

He raised his eyebrows at me in confusion. "Over already?" The sixth Budweiser he had consumed made him a little slow in the brain. He wasn't sure where I was going with this at all.

I realized I was going to have to take the more direct approach.

"Well, its been fun getting to know you and everything," I said, a little apologetically. "But I don't think this is going to go anywhere."

"Are you kidding me?" He asked, not bothering to conceal both his disappointment and hurt. "The chemistry between us is sizzling. You didn't notice?"

I didn't believe I was too picky when it came to men. I just didn't like ones that were overly confident and aggressive when it came to what they wanted. Clayton, I leaned, was both.

"This is bullshit," he went on, his voice trembling slightly. "You think I'm hot, and I think you're hot. I mean, _look_ at the way you're dressed! You're _totally_ giving me mixed signals here!"

I hadn't thought I was leading him on: I sincerely did enjoy getting to know him. Well, at least, what he said to me verbally during our conversations, and not what his thoughts revealed to me in the process. I hadn't gone out on a date for months, and I wanted to enjoy myself, like any girl does. I wanted to feel good about myself, so I had worn one of my favourite dresses, which was strapless and white with gorgeous little flowers on the hem. Every girl liked to dress up for a date, didn't she? I didn't think that made me seem as if I was giving him the false impression that we would be heading to his house after this.

It was just a girly thing to do. It didn't mean I had intentions to hook up with him. I just had wanted to look nice and put a bit of effort in.

Clayton obviously can't take rejection very well. He went on to call me a few rude names and then he left in a hurry. Just with the way he exited the restaurant, I knew he was in a royal huff. I sighed sadly and sunk back down into the chair. I had to remind myself it wasn't actually _my fault_ that he was so angry; _The alcohol_ he had consumed was most likely a contributing factor to that and just made him overreact to my gentle pass on heading home with him for the night. It wasn't my fault. He was just showing his true colours in being a pushy jerk.

I was going to give Gran an earful once I got safely home, that's for sure.

Never would I agree to going out on a date ever again, I decided determinedly. Even if I die lonely with a bunch of cat's around me, it still would be a better way to go than having to put myself through all this awkwardness ever again.

Settling my elbow up on the table, I rested the side of my face on my hand, staring vacantly outside the window. The longer I lingered around here, the better it would be for me. This way Gran wouldn't be so tempted to interrogate me on how the date went the instance I got home. Hey, maybe if I stayed here late enough, by the time I get home hopefully Gran will already be fast asleep in bed and then she'll forget all about my date with Clayton.

Sure, it was probably wishful thinking, but it seemed the best way to avoid Gran. It was a pretty smart idea. A really, really smart idea.

Straightening up at the table, I looked around the restaurant curiously. It wasn't as packed or busy the first few hours Clayton and I arrived in here. Some of the waitresses who worked here reminded me of the group of girls I worked with at Merlotte's. I did pretty much the same as the girls in this restaurant did, with the exception that their uniforms were more modest. My uniform at work consisted of small black shorts, a white T-shirt, and whatever comfortable trainers we liked to wear. Here, all the waitresses wore matching outfits that consisted of knee-length skirts and neat blouses. Their outfits were far more classy than mine was for work.

This restaurant seemed also far more posh than Merlotte's. Everyone was required to dress up in their best clothes and be on their best behaviour. It wasn't like that where I worked; Everything was more casual there.

Observing the few people still in the restaurant at this time of the night, I felt as if I was sticking out like a sore thumb among them. Clearly the people here were more well-off than I was, judging by their clothing choices. A group of women were wearing expensive designer brand. Some of the men looked like they were extras out of a James Bond movie. Life must be a breeze being rich.

Closing my eyes again, I let my forehead fall back onto my hand, feeling drowsiness overcome me.

It was so much more peaceful here than at work, where it was hectic and busy every hour of the day. At least here I didn't have to serve people. I was just a customer, who can sit and relax and take a load off without any concern in the world whatsoever.

I didn't know how long I sat there, slumped over, with my eyes closed, absently listening to my surroundings, but when I heard the door open and somebody come in, a funny feeling overcame me and all the voices in my head seemed to halt.

It was as if that silence intensified to the rooftop. It was unlike anything I had ever experienced before in my entire life. Usually, in a room filled with people, everything was so blah, blah, blah, yet... somewhere along with this person's entrance, it seemed to cut all that chatter off in my head perfectly. All that hit me was dead silence, and I got lost in it. I opened my eyes and brought them up, inspecting my surroundings curiously.

At first I was lost, wondering where it came from. Until my eyes focused on a man standing up at the bar, waiting to be served.

His hands were shoved deeply into the pockets of the ass-hugging black denim jeans he was wearing, but when he swiveled around slightly, taking everything in, I caught a better glimpse of his face.

I felt as if all the air had suddenly left my lungs.

He was gorgeous, and I couldn't hear his thoughts, like I could with everyone else. He was the one responsible for that heavenly silence, and he probably wasn't even aware of it.

His hair just only met the ends of his shoulder blades and was almost matching mine in colour. He was wearing scuffed, leather biker boots that were tucked into those ass-hugging jeans of his, and the shape of his back and his shoulders appeared broad and strong in the plain black shirt he was wearing.

The instance I brought my eyes up to his face again, I belatedly realized that he was staring right my way. His eyes held mine in, and I tried not to look away. His eyes were a lovely blue, and he was a handsome hunk in every meaning of the word. He also had this odd glow to his pale skin, which wasn't something I usually noticed in somebody before. It was strange that no one else seemed to notice how different he was. Couldn't anyone else see the way his skin glimmered so brightly?

_Obviously not_.

No one else was even giving him the time of day. I peered over quickly at the bartender behind the bar, and they didn't even seem to notice he was waiting to be served. It was almost as if no one else could see him... like he was invisible.

His eyes continued to stare into mine deeply and I considered getting up from the table and approaching him, introduce myself to him, but apparently he was thinking the same thing. I didn't have to move, I didn't have to do anything.

He turned and approached me and I got a better front view of the man. The black shirt he was wearing was so tight it clung to him, enough that you could see tight abdominals under it and the muscularity of his shoulder blades.I found it increasingly hard to breathe as I forced myself to meet his gaze again. It was impossible to read the emotions on his face; but I thought he looked distinctively shocked, for some reason or another. Once he slipped in front of me at the table, he stared into my eyes deeply and it almost felt as though he had the ability to see straight through me. I had no idea why he was staring at me like that, but he just was.

"Hello Miss Stackhouse," he finally spoke, his voice quiet and low. "Or shall I just call you Sookie instead?"

How the hell did he know who I was? I wondered, feeling uncomfortable.

I didn't know him at all, as far as I was aware of. Besides, surely he wasn't a face you could forget easily. There was no possible way he could have known who I was in advance, unless he was a friend of Clayton's and he had put him up to this.

"How do you know my name?" I asked suspiciously. Just my luck, it was Clayton's friend hoping to make me feel bad over rejecting him. "I don't believe we have ever met before, unless..." I trailed off nervously, hoping I wasn't right on that. Maybe some men just couldn't take a hint?

Without bothering to ask if it was all right with me, the man slid in next to me, occupying the vacant space I could have used to exit. I tried not to look so horrified by that. Suddenly everything felt so suffocating, with him blocking the way out of the seats with his body. The table was too closely near the chairs, and it would have only been a tight squeeze for me to stand up and get out of. I could feel him staring at me, studying my face closely with his eyes. I didn't know what was going on at all, no less what was about to happen. Was he trying to intimidate me or what?

"Who are you?" I asked, trying and succeeding in keeping my voice calm and level. "How do you know my name? I'm sure we've never met before?"

"My name is Eric. Before now, we have not met."

"Then how it is that you know my name already?" I asked, in sheer confusion. It just didn't make any sense at all.

"Because I know everything about you," he said quietly, turning in his seat slightly to face me more head-on. With the way his head was on a slight angle, it made tendrils of his blonde hair fall into his eyes. They held mine solemnly, and yet again I found it hard to look away. "Your name is Sookie Stackhouse. You were born twenty-three years ago, but you never knew you parents very well, as they perished when you were just a child. You work as a barmaid in Merlotte's; A little bar in Bon Temps and, despite your issues with your telepathy, you enjoy it."

A great uneasiness settled into my stomach as I digested what he was saying. He knew everything about me; Every little private detail that I hardly discussed with anyone. So how on earth could that be possible?

"How do you know all that?" I asked, and I sounded more frightened than I would have liked to, in front of this man. "Where did you get your information from about me?"

"Oh, I didn't need to get that information from anyone. I gained it myself, from observing you over the years."

"Observing me?" I croaked out uneasily. Goodness, was this man a stalker?

He sighed heavily through his mouth, and my eyes were instantly drawn to his teeth. They were perfectly straight and white teeth, but when I looked more carefully, I saw that his canine teeth were longer and sharper than the average person's teeth. What was he? Obviously he was disturbed by my question and he didn't know how to answer it. He brought a hand up to his forehead, combing his fingers through his long, ashy-blonde hair. He tucked a strand behind his ear that was visible to me from where I sat, and I couldn't help noticing even the shape of his ears were slightly off. They looked more angular.

"What are you?" I asked. The question flew out of my mouth without any control.

Without a word, he stood and rose to full height from the table. I couldn't believe it. He wasn't going to answer me? Didn't I have any right to know what this man's deal was? It frustrated the hell out of me. I didn't know why I wanted to know so badly; If he was a stalker, then I would have prefered not to know. But there was something different about him, and I caught onto it from the get-go.

Jumping up from the seat, I reached out and grabbed his forearm, hoping to pull him back. Even clutching onto his forearm with my hand, I could feel the strength in him and the hardness of his bones. He definitely was _something_.

"Tell me," I demanded firmly, shaking his arm around desperately. "How do you know so much about me?"

Maybe I was shaking him too roughly, because suddenly I heard an alarming noise, and something light and wispy like plumage smacked me square in the face. I stumbled back with a frightened yelp, then had to grab onto the table to catch my bearings before I fell over. I was blinded by blackness and panicked for a second that I was unconscious, until I slowly realized I was awake and something was merely in my way. When the man stormed away crossly and left me huddled by the table, it occurred to me then what was happening.

Great, big, black wings had sprouted out from his back, and his shirt was torn open from the impact of them spreading out; The fabric hanging from his sleeves in tatters. Lifting his arms into the air slightly, he turned back to look at me. It was hard to see anything else but the great big wings. No one else seemed to notice anything. I shot a quick look around me, but no one was paying attention. Why wasn't anyone seeing this like I was?

"Now you know what I am," he said, in a voice so quiet and deep that I almost missed hearing it. "I am Eric, sent to you for guidance and protection." He smiled at me, his blue eyes sparkling, and those teeth of his seemed to lengthen. He turned away from me and I knew he was about to leave. But I still hadn't gotten an adequate explanation yet.

"Wait," I called. "Just tell me what this is all about, will you? I have no idea what's going on here!"

Just my luck, people were starting to take notice. They only stared at me, not at this glorious stranger with black wings. It was almost as if... they couldn't see him? If I could, then why couldn't they as well?

His smile widened, and he looked on the verge of chortling at me with laughter. "We will meet again soon, but patience would be wise," he encouraged gently. "You might want to keep your voice down next time. People are staring at you as if you are crazy."

Within the blink of an eye, he was gone and I was alone, standing like a fool staring off into the space where he had just vanished from vacantly. I felt self-conscious, as I peered quickly around the room.

He was right. Everyone was giving me the evil-eyes and were judging my sanity.


End file.
